


Sneaking Out

by alpacatracks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Childhood Friends, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Post-Crimson Flower, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 06:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacatracks/pseuds/alpacatracks
Summary: She stared at him with those wide, pleading eyes, and Hubert felt his expression soften again. Even for a five-year-old, she was a remarkably undemanding liege. The fact that Edelgard asked so little of him made it impossible to refuse her this one simple request.“Alright,” he said. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”---------When Edelgard wants to sneak out of the palace, Hubert can hardly say no. It turns out that sneaking out is a habit that's hard to break.





	Sneaking Out

**Author's Note:**

> When you really should be working on your multi-chapter fic, but can't resist the powers of Edelbert...this happens.
> 
> Rated T for depictions of child abuse (non-graphic but please be aware!)

“Hubert, I’m _bored_.”

Hubert glanced up from the chessboard. They had just finished their third game of the afternoon, and Edelgard had beaten him resoundingly each time. He hadn’t even needed to _let_ her win: even though she was two years younger than him, her talent for strategy games was undeniable. In fact, her talent for almost everything - reading, mathematics, music, even basic magic - was remarkable for her age. Hubert generally found other children intolerable, especially five-year-olds. But Edelgard was different.

“Do you want to play again?” Hubert usually detested losing, but when it was to Edelgard, he didn’t mind.

“No. I want to go outside.”

Hubert couldn’t deny that it was a nice day - certainly not one to be spent trapped in the library. Light pooled in through the library windows, and he gazed down at the verdant lawns of the palace gardens, with their neatly trimmed hedges and lush flowerbeds, overflowing with plants from across Fódlan. “We could play in the garden if you’d like,” he suggested.

Edelgard gave him one of her pouts, the same expression that she wore whenever someone made a suggestion that she didn’t approve of. “But I’ve been to the garden loads of times. I want to go somewhere _different_. Somewhere actually outside.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow. “Outside the palace?” The idea of the two of them exploring the city had crossed his mind before, of course, but his father had forbade it. _You must ensure Lady Edelgard’s safety at all times_, he had said. _That means making sure that she never sets foot out of the palace without an adult to accompany her…_

“I could ask your nanny if she’d take us.”

“I don’t mean with an _adult_. Adults are boring. I want to go with you.” 

“Into the city, you mean?” Beyond the palace grounds, Hubert could see the streets of the capital, lined with ancient buildings and placid canals, radiant in the afternoon sunlight. 

He looked back at Edelgard, who was nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Uncle Volkhard took me for a walk the other day. Did you know that there’s a place where you can buy every kind of sweet in the whole wide world?”

“I doubt that,” he said, although a smile flickered across his lips at the thought. Hubert didn’t care much for sweets, but anything that made Edelgard happy was not to be turned down.

“_Please_, Hubert. Just this one thing.” 

She stared at him with those wide, pleading eyes, and Hubert felt his expression soften again. Even for a five-year-old, she was a remarkably undemanding liege. The fact that Edelgard asked so little of him made it impossible to refuse her this one simple request.

“Alright,” he said. “But you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

\--------------

One of the first lessons Hubert had received to prepare him for his role as the future Minister of the Imperial Household was on the palace’s network of secret passageways. His father had told him that they were only to be used in emergencies, like if the palace caught fire, or an enemy army invaded, and the Imperial family needed to be smuggled to safety. In Hubert’s short life so far, no such events had taken place, and it was almost _disappointing_ that such an intricate system of secret passages was going unused. So he’d taken to exploring them in his free time between lessons and servant duty, away from his father’s prying eyes: mapping the routes out of the palace and all the locations in the city to which they led.

His father kept the key in his study, which was located down the hallway from the palace library. Marquis Vestra usually kept his study locked, but he and his fellow Ministers had been summoned to an emergency Cabinet meeting, and in haste the door had been left ajar. Hubert had explored his father’s study’s many times, secretly perusing the books on the shelves and the bundles of documents in the drawers, even though he didn’t understand some of the bigger words. But the master key, tucked away in the bottom drawer of his desk, was the room’s greatest prize. 

He told Edelgard to wait outside while he snuck in and retrieved the key. It looked deceptively ordinary: a small iron key, slightly rusted on the edges. Edelgard’s eyes widened at the sight of it, barely concealing a grin. “Do you think your father would be angry if he caught us?”

“Furious, Lady Edelgard,” he replied, with a barely-concealed smirk. Although he secretly feared his father’s punishments, the thought of him flying into a rage over the disappearance of his precious key filled him with impudent joy.

The entrance to the passage they needed stood on the lower floor of the palace, close to the kitchens. The wooden door was concealed behind a grubby old tapestry, one that, to the discerning eye, appeared out of place in the servants’ quarters. Hubert slipped the key into the lock subtly and turned it, taking care not to make any sounds that could rouse the attention of the kitchen staff.

A stone staircase led to the dark depths below. Edelgard hesitated at the top of the steps, gazing down into the dense blackness, her expression fearful.

“You can hold my hand if you’re scared,” Hubert offered.

“I’m not scared,” she insisted, pouting again, but she placed a trusting hand in his anyway. 

As soon as she had stepped over the threshold, Hubert shut the door behind them, plunging the passage into darkness and eliciting a gasp from Edelgard. He cast a simple fire spell and light spilled back into the passage again, their shadows eerie and elongated. Something scuttled across the floor near their feet and Edelgard froze.

He squeezed her hand more tightly. “It’s alright, my lady. You mustn’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared. I promise.” She sounded affronted, but he could tell from the soft trembling of her hand that she wasn’t being entirely open with him.

They walked hand in hand, the light from Hubert’s spell illuminating the narrow space, their shadows lengthy and contorted. The passageway was long, but Hubert knew the route so well that the walk didn’t feel like an effort. It had occurred to him before that the passage, despite being long and well hidden, still offered a direct route to the palace, and he wondered how difficult it would be to line the whole route with nefarious magic traps.

Eventually they reached the door. The lock was rusty, but after a couple of attempts it creaked open. Light filtered through the entrance, Edelgard stumbled outside, shielding her eyes against the glint of the sun.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“We’re close to the merchant quarter, Lady Edelgard. All the best shops and stalls in Enbarr are here. Including the sweet stalls-”

He was interrupted by the sensation of her throwing her short arms around his waist with unrestrained enthusiasm. “Hubert, you’re a _genius._” 

The streets of the merchant quarter were lined with shops and stalls boasting all kinds of wares: fresh fruit and vegetables, lush fabrics, jars of spices and tea leaves from beyond Fódlan’s shores. Edelgard stopped to inspect a couple of stalls along the way - one selling wooden dolls with grotesque painted faces, another stocked with piles of ancient tomes - but it didn’t take long for her to spot her desired destination.

“Hubert, look!”

The sweet stall was easy to spot: it was surrounded by hungry children, clamouring over the piles of multi-coloured candies. Edelgard practically sprinted over to the stall, dragging Hubert along behind her, but suddenly she came to a halt, her face settling into a disappointed expression.

“We didn’t bring any money,” she said.

“Don’t worry.” Hubert reached into his pocket and drew out a small velvet bag. The coins jangled against each other when he shook it. “I’ve been saving up.”

Even standing on her tiptoes, Edelgard could barely see over the edge of the stall, so he hoisted her up around the waist. Hubert hardly minded, especially when he saw the joy in her expression as she surveyed the piles of sweets: creamy fudge, rich truffles, lollipops in all the colours of the rainbow. 

They took it in turns to pick out the sweets they wanted. The merchant’s eyes widened at the amount of money that Hubert offered him, but he dutifully scooped the sweets into paper bags without questioning how a seven-year-old boy had chanced upon such a large pile of money. Once their pockets were brimming with sweets, they decided to leave the merchant quarter behind and head for the banks of the canal. No one on the street seemed to recognise them: the adults whose legs they wove around were all too preoccupied with their own lives, and to them they could’ve been a pair of ordinary children, not one of the imperial princesses and her trusted retainer.

They settled down on a patch of grass beside the canal. In the distance towered the imposing facade of the palace, surrounded by other ornate buildings that Hubert’s father had pointed out to him before: the Bank of Adrestia, the Imperial High Court, the Mittelfrank Opera House. Edelgard seemed less interested in her surroundings and more in their collection of sweets, which she wasted no time in delving into.

“Careful, Lady Edelgard. If you eat too many sweets you won’t want to eat your dinner.”

“I don’t want dinner anyway,” she said through a mouthful of candies. “They never cook my favourite food. It’s always what my brothers want. It’s not _fair_.”

A subtle smile flickered across Hubert’s lips; even at five years old, Edelgard had an incredibly keen sense of justice and fairness. Her eyes also had a tendency to be bigger than her stomach. One time he recalled how she’d eaten so much saghert and cream that she’d been sick all over the dining hall floor afterwards. The maids had spent a while cleaning the vomit stains out of the carpet.

“We should go back soon,” he said.

“But I don’t _want_ to go back,” said Edelgard. “I like being here with you.”

_Me too_, Hubert thought, placing his hand on hers. He wished that more of their afternoons could be spent like this, far from the narrow corridors and cloying atmosphere of the palace, just sitting by the canal and scoffing sweets until they were giddy and sick.

They returned a few days later, when their fathers were locked away in meetings and the palace’s army of servants were too engrossed in making preparations for a banquet that evening. They visited a different area of the city this time, away from the delights and noise of the merchant quarter; it was quieter here, where the streets were lined with peaceful gardens and stone fountains. Rays of spring sunlight pierced the gaps in the tree canopy, the grass covered in contrasting patterns of light and shadow. They had stopped to buy sorbet from a street vendor: Hubert had finished his, but Edelgard was still devouring hers, their lips sticky with sugary liquid.

They had just turned a corner when Hubert froze. A short distance away stood a small group of palace soldiers, and one of them was staring straight at him before his gaze flickered downwards to Edelgard, blissfully oblivious to the fact that they’d been caught. He watched as the soldier gave his comrade a nudge before pointing in their direction, and as they did, Hubert felt the blood drain from his face.

“Lady Edelgard,” he said, his mouth painfully dry. “We have to get out of here.”

“Do we have to?” Edelgard sounded reluctant, but upon seeing his fearful expression, she appeared to understand. She let go of her cone, the last few drops of sorbet melting into a sorry puddle on the ground. Then her other hand fastened around his wrist, and the two of them began to run.

Away from the buzz of the merchant quarter, the crowds were thinner, making it harder for them to conceal themselves. When he glanced backwards Hubert could see the stern faces of their pursuers, growing closer each second. The soldiers were much bigger and stronger than them, and would surely catch them in a game of chase. Their only option was to hide.

“This way,” he said, steering Edelgard to the right and down a side street.

The streets here were less well kept than the ones in the city centre, their surface uneven and littered with obstacles. Protruding from the ground ahead was a sharp flagstone edge, while Hubert noticed just in time to leap over. Edelgard wasn’t so lucky. The next few seconds seemed to elapse in slow motion: her shoe caught on the edge of the stone, and she lost her grip on Hubert’s hand, plummeting forwards and landing flat on her face. 

For a moment she remained quiet, still stunned by the fall. Then she began to wail, her cheeks pink and hot, bitter tears streaming from her eyes. Hubert rushed over to help her up, but no sooner than he reached her, the soldiers approached and he felt his stomach drop a few feet.

“You shouldn’t be out here, Princess,” barked the first soldier. “Or you, young Master. We’re taking you back to the palace immediately.”

“You can’t _make_ us go back,” Hubert snapped. From the minimal training he’d received, he knew how a few dark magic spells, and there was nothing he wanted more than to hurl a cloud of Miasma at the soldiers. But they were much stronger and more powerful than him, and in one deft movement, the taller of the pair had swept him off his feet. As the ground disappeared beneath him, he could still hear Edelgard’s cries, peppered with the sound of his name. Her voice shot knives into his chest: he wanted to hold her hand and dry her tears, or wipe a damp cloth over he knees, which were no doubt covered in grazes. He attempted to wriggle free from the soldier’s grasp, but the strong hands of his captor were like ropes around his limbs, and breaking free would be impossible. 

Eventually they reached the palace. Edelgard had stopped crying for a bit, but when a pack of maids descended on her, fussing over and manhandling her, she erupted into tears again, her arm outstretched in Hubert’s direction, as if she were reaching for him. 

He aimed a kick downwards at the thigh of the soldier who was still carrying him; the shock alone caused the soldier to relinquish his grasp, and he fell to the floor. He forced himself to stand and was about to break into a run, when he felt a large, firm hand clamp down on his shoulder. 

Hubert froze instantly. 

“My study,” said the voice. “_Now_.”

His father’s icy tones cut through the sound of Edelgard’s cries, and Hubert found himself unable to do anything but watch as the maids carried her away from him and out of sight.

\--------

From then on, the location of the master key remained a heavily guarded secret. Hubert knew better than to try any of the passages again. The doors would certainly be locked, and even if they weren’t, his desire to sneak out again had been quelled.

He could barely bring him to look at Edelgard: he despised himself for putting her in danger, when all he’d wanted was to make her happy. She had fallen and hurt herself because he had forced her to run. She had been scolded and punished because he had introduced her to the labyrinth of secret passageways in the first place. His physical wounds stung for days afterwards, but it was nothing compared to the prolonged ache he felt whenever he saw her.

Eventually he was allowed to play with her again, but the servants kept a close watch over the pair of them, even when they were taking tea in the parlour or studying in the library. Hubert hated it: no matter how many times he tried to distract them, or slip away into a private corner of the building, he couldn’t escape the hawkish glare of the palace staff. 

It was almost a month until he found Edelgard alone. She was seated at her dressing table in her room, the door slightly ajar; it was rare for her to be so unguarded.

“Lady Edelgard?”

She looked up as he entered, his reflection visible in the mirror. Her hair was loose, without the ribbons she usually wore, and she was busy dragging a comb through strands of her brown hair.

“I came to say sorry, my lady. About what happened in the city. I never should have-”

“Hubert, you shouldn’t say sorry,” she interjected, wincing as she combed out a particularly troublesome tangle. “I know we got in trouble, but…” She trailed off, as if recalling the punishment she’d received. “But it was fun. And I liked going outside with you.” 

He approached her gingerly. Despite being her closest friend, her room was still her sanctuary, off limits to everyone else in the palace. He felt like he was crossing an invisible threshold as he walked across the thick carpet. “Does this mean that I’m forgiven?”

She turned to face him, placing the comb back on the dressing table and taking his hand into hers. Her hands felt small and soft, so different to his with his calluses and bony fingers. 

“No,” she said. “Because you didn’t do anything wrong to begin with.”

Hubert gazed down at the carpet, feeling an indescribable warmth flood through him as he did, from his chest to his fingertips. The glass that separated them had been broken, and he knew that he could be her friend again, not just her servant. There was no doubt that Edelgard was different from the others: her siblings, their classmates, the other Ministers’ children who attended the palace sometimes. Hubert tolerated them at best; at worst, he couldn’t stand them, especially the insufferable son of the Prime Minister.

Moons passed, and the seasons unfolded like the pages of a picture book: the petals of spring fell, giving way to the lush green of summer, then the radiant orange and crimsons of autumn. It rarely snowed in Enbarr - the city was too far south to attract much more than a light frost - but that winter, a layer of snow covered the city, and from the palace windows Hubert could see children having snowball fights and people skating on the icy surface of the canal.

Two more winters passed, and Hubert was ten years old. They found themselves playing chess in the library again, their usual pastime in between lessons, especially on days like these when rain battered the windows of the palace and a cruel, bitter wind tormented the city outside.

Edelgard had complained of being lonely. Even with Hubert to keep her company, she was used to being around her siblings, but their time together had become more sparse: some of them would disappear for days on end, allegedly to accompany their father on visits or to undergo treatment for illness. Hubert treated these reports with suspicion, but knew better than to ask questions. 

“My uncle says that there’s trouble outside,” said Edelgard gloomily, her head resting against the windowpane. She was using one of her fingers to trace the path of raindrops against the glass, illuminated by the gentle light of a candle. It was still afternoon, but the storm outside had plunged Enbarr into near darkness. 

Hubert’s own father had told him nothing, of course, although he couldn’t avoid the fact that he had been acting in a way that aroused his suspicions. He had overheard his father in hushed conversations with his fellow Ministers in the corridors and alcoves of the palace. And then there was the shadowy presence of Edelgard’s uncle, Lord Arundel, in each of their discussions. There was something about his sinister demeanour that told Hubert that he wasn’t to be trusted.

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, my lady,” he lied, moving his castle a few squares forward and capturing one of her knights. “Your move.”

But Edelgard was distracted, her mind focused on matters far from the game unfolding in front of them. For the first time in years, he was able to beat her easily, his queen sweeping across the board to checkmate her king. 

He didn’t see Edelgard at dinner that night, although it was increasingly common for the Hresvelg siblings to dine separately from everyone else. Instead he ate with his father, poking at his plate of food with his fork, but made excuses and retired to bed early. The rain hadn’t ceased, droplets pummelling the windows relentlessly, and the low grumble of thunder kept him awake deep into the night.

The sky had cleared by morning, and his room was bathed in butter-yellow sunlight. Hubert dressed quickly; as he did, he couldn’t help but notice that the corridors outside were eerily silent. His room was en route to the dining hall, and morning he was usually roused by the sound of chatter and servants pushing trolleys of clanking crockery past his door.

He opened his bedroom door gently. A pair of maids rushed past his door without noticing him, speaking in hushed whispers, their expressions solemn. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

The pair stopped, clearly startled by his presence. “Oh, Master Hubert,” said the first, trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Haven’t you heard?”

The world around him began to dissolve, the edges of objects becoming indistinct and blurry, the voices of the maids just white noise. It was as if there was a thick fog in his mind, twisting and writhing, stifling his ability to think clearly. He practically sprinted up the two flights of stairs to Edelgard’s room, shoving past the soldier who was standing watch beside her door. Her bed was neatly made, as if it hadn’t been slept in at all. Across the room, the wardrobe door was ajar, its contents half-empty. Other belongings of Edelgard’s - the stuffed bear that kept watch while she slept at night, the white comb that she used to brush her hair every morning - were nowhere to be seen. Terror began to grow in the pit of his stomach.

“What’s happened to Lady Edelgard?” he demanded.

The soldier in the doorway didn’t respond. More of them had arrived now, equipped with shields and spears; if the situation hadn’t been so grave, Hubert would’ve laughed at how many of them had been sent to subdue an unruly child. 

“Take the young Master back to his room,” barked one of the group.

_I won’t let you_, Hubert thought, digging his fingertips into his palms. A cloud of dark magic erupted from his fingers, soaring across the room and engulfing the band of soldiers, their strangled cries rising like a chorus from the mire. Something else struck him in the torso and he stumbled backwards, throwing his arms to his stomach protectively. His limbs became stiff, his mind even foggier than before, and all he could feel was the sensation of hands gripping his arms and legs, raising him off the ground until the world went black. 

When he finally came to, he was lying on his bed, propped up by a stack of plump pillows. His father stood at the foot of his bed, his arms folded, and Hubert used his limited strength to scowl in his general direction.

“When I heard that a child had attacked a group of palace soldiers with magic, I should’ve known it would be you.”

_Soldiers. Magic._ Hubert recalled the scene from Edelgard’s room, and a potent combination of rage and fear seeped into his brain again. He forced himself into a seated position, his arms trembling as he did. “They’ve taken Lady Edelgard away.” His own voice sounded so small and distant, almost as if he were underwater. “We have to get her back. Haven’t you sent soldiers to look for her?”

His father didn’t respond, which only made Hubert more irate. “_Answer_ me!” he demanded.

“No one will be going after the princess,” replied his father. “If you must know, she has left for the Kingdom with her mother and uncle. It would be best if you didn’t ask why.” _The Kingdom?_ Hubert had been there once, as a small child: he didn’t remember much other than dull grey buildings and endless frost-covered fields. _Why would Edelgard’s uncle take her there?_ No matter how hard he tried to piece together the fragments in his mind, none of it made any sense. 

“Lady Edelgard doesn’t belong there,” he spat, easing himself off the bed. His body still felt weak, and the world span around him as he forced himself into a standing position. “She belongs here. This is her home, not the Kingdom. Why have they taken her!?”

His father gave him a pitying look. “You’re too young to appreciate why. Perhaps when you’re older, you’ll be able to understand. For now, you will stay in your room as punishment for your actions earlier-”

“And you’re not even going to go after her?” interjected Hubert, his hands trembling with ill-concealed fury. “Then you are a traitor and a disgrace! You pitiful excuse-”

He was cut off by the sensation of his father’s fist colliding with his cheek, and he stumbled backwards, throwing his hands to his face. Pain seared through his skull and he felt the unfamiliar burn of tears in his eyes. 

“You will never address me like that again,” snapped his father. “Clearly you need to stay in your room until you have learned to conduct yourself like a noble and not an animal, however long that may take.” 

Hubert didn’t look up as his father swept out of the room, the click of the lock telling him that he was now trapped inside. He approached the bedroom mirror cautiously, raising a trembling hand to where his father had struck him, observing the early signs of a bruise, and the nascent swelling beneath the skin. 

The sight of his reflection, so pitiful and pathetic, only angered him further. He reached for the nearest object he could find - a heavy old book on the machinery of government - and hurled it at the mirror, watching as it shattered into tiny fragments. Such displays of anger were rare from him. He had been taught to focus on his duties, to never let his emotions get in the way of protecting Edelgard. But now she had been stolen away, and there was nothing but a hollow pain in her place.

The bedroom door was locked tightly, but he could try weakening it with magic. He forced himself to focus and summon a spell, but his mind was clouded and nothing happened. Someone - his father, no doubt - had cast a silence spell on the room, rendering his magic skills useless. 

For the next two hours he lay face down on his bed, contemplating his next move. He could fake remorse and grovel to his father, convince him that he was ready to be let out, but Marquis Vestra was not a forgiving man. Perhaps he could wait it out until his father relented and let him go, but past experience taught him that this could take days. By then, Edelgard could be a million miles away.

_You must ensure Lady Edelgard’s safety at all times._

He had failed her again.

And there was only one way of making up for it.

Night came to the city, drawing everything into its sinister grasp. A servant slipped a tray of food through his door - a bowl of an unappetising gruel-like substance and a single roll of bread - but they were gone immediately, leaving the door locked behind them. He cursed himself silently, having missed his chance to escape. Edelgard’s words from the day before played out in his mind again - her uncle’s warnings about unrest in the city outside - but it hardly mattered. Rescuing Edelgard was the only thing that mattered.

There was only one other route out of his bedroom: the window. Cautiously, Hubert approached the windowpane and surveyed the drop below. His room was three floors up, and beyond the window’s edge, there were no balconies or ledges to break up the route downwards. Falling from the window would surely result in him being maimed, if not killed. 

All he needed to do was reach the ground. From there, he knew the places where the palace walls were most vulnerable, and he was nimble enough to scale the garden walls if needed.

Beyond the bedchamber lay his personal bathroom. There was a small window situated above the bathtub; Hubert had never paid it much attention before, but it now appeared to be his only way out. Beneath the window was a ledge: narrow, but large enough for him to steady himself without falling. From there, he could lower himself onto another ledge a few feet below, before it gave way to another drop to the ground. 

It was a risk. But it was the only way of reaching Edelgard. 

The window just large enough for him to crawl through. Ignoring the pounding in his chest, he maneuvered his slender frame through the window and lowered himself onto the ledge. The night air was crisp, the clear sky patterned with stars, and he shivered as he positioned himself to make the jump onto the ledge below. He told himself it was from the cold.

The drop to the next ledge was simple enough, but from there it was several feet to the ground below. He gazed down at the courtyard floor, the lines between the paving stones dissolving into a nondescript blur, vertigo engulfing his brain as he lowered his legs over the edge.

And then he let go.

\---------------------------

Garreg Mach’s rules weren’t exactly what Hubert would call strict. Aside from actually killing each other, or fornicating in the infirmary (the insufferable playboy from House Gautier had fallen foul of that one on a couple of occasions), very little was off limits. Although he suspected that sneaking out of the monastery grounds at night probably wasn’t on the list of the Academy’s acceptable behaviours, even if it wasn’t specifically outlawed.

Edelgard walked beside him, pulling her cloak around her to guard against the crisp night air. She hadn’t bothered with her Flame Emperor regalia. It was only her uncle who they would be meeting, not Solon or Kronya or the rest. Edelgard despised all of them, and certainly wouldn’t have agreed to deal with them at such a late hour, unless there was something she desperately needed. 

The streets of the town were mostly silent. Distant laughter resonated through the night air, probably from one of the few inns that were still open at this hour; otherwise, the town was still. They walked until they reached the outskirts, where the streets gave way to fields, the dark silhouette of the monastery looming in the distance, and stopped beneath the base of an old oak tree.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Lady Edelgard, this seems like a rather strange place for a meeting.” 

“Even stranger than usual, you mean?” She shivered as she spoke, pulling her cloak more tightly around her.

“Lady Edelgard, if you’re cold then you-”

“I’m fine, Hubert. Really.” She sighed heavily, her arm brushing against his. “I just wish we didn’t have to do this.”

“Sneak out of the monastery at night, you mean?”

“No. _This_.”

Hubert frowned; he knew what she meant, although it was rare for her to be so candid with him. He didn’t like working with them any more than she did, but she rarely spoke of her feelings on the subject, not even to him.

“It’s necessary, my lady. It won’t always be. But for your plan to be a success, we must work with them. No matter how...distasteful we find it.”

Edelgard stayed silent. She was looking back at the monastery, the narrow outline of the Goddess Tower stretching upwards to the sky. Hubert wanted to say something,_anything_, to shatter her sadness.

“Your uncle is certainly taking his time,” he said, grimacing afterwards. _Well done, Hubert._

“I think I’m becoming too attached to this place,” she said in response, closing her eyes. “Well, not the place itself. But how I feel when I’m here. When I’m with you and the professor and our friends…” She trailed off, running a hand over the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, Hubert. I’m burdening you with such petty things.”

“You could never be a burden to me, Lady Edelgard,” he said, reaching for her hand in the darkness. “And your feelings certainly aren’t petty to me. But I must implore you to stay focused on your path. It will be hard, but the end result will be worth it.”

She squeezed his hand in response. “I know. I just- I thought it would be easier. That I’d never let myself become attached, so when the time comes it wouldn’t be as painful.” She paused as a particularly cold gust of wind rattled the tree’s branches, causing her to shiver. “But I suppose I knew there’d be pain, no matter what. There always is.”

They stood in silence for another minute, watching the occasional light flickering in the monastery’s windows, until the soft thud of footsteps told them that they were no longer alone. 

\----------------------------

Hubert had never been a tea drinker. He preferred the bitterness of coffee instead, but after years of being around Edelgard he had grown used to the softer notes of tea. The maids usually prepared the Emperor’s tea for her, but on their quiet evenings together, Hubert insisted on brewing it himself. It was a small gesture, but one that never went unappreciated.

Edelgard was in the parlour, reclining in her usual chair, her feet resting on a stool. It had been another long day, and her eyes were heavy with fatigue. She barely looked up as he placed the teacup on the table beside her.

“Thank you, Hubert,” she said.

“It’s the very least I could do, my love.” He’d almost addressed her as _Your Majesty_ again, a title she’d been specifically asking him not to use for the past few years. The days of their relationship as master and servant had ended long ago. He settled into his usual chair opposite hers, watching the silky clouds of steam rising from her teacup, the gentle scent of bergamot teasing his senses. “And how has your day been?” 

Edelgard smiled wearily. “No different from usual. Except today I had the pleasure of listening to an _exceptionally_ boring report on the state of trade routes in the eastern Empire. I only fell asleep twice.” 

“An understandable reaction. Although, if you don’t mind me saying, your sleep schedule has been rather off lately. I’d encourage you to get a proper rest when you can.”

She laughed, as if the concept of a ‘proper rest’ was something she wasn’t used to. “It’s alright, Hubert. You don’t need to worry about my sleep pattern.”

The sound of a knock at the door interrupted their conversation, and Edelgard beckoned the person outside to enter. One of the many palace servants, a young man with untidy hair and freckles, entered the room, his expression sheepish.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness.” He gave them both a neat bow, his nervousness apparent. “I do apologise for disturbing you at this hour. Unfortunately something has arisen that I need to bring to your attention.”

Hubert frowned, wondering what could possibly require the Emperor’s attention on such a quiet evening. 

The servant hovered awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. “It’s alright,” said Edelgard reassuringly, although Hubert could sense her impatience bristling beneath the surface. “Please speak.”

“It’s a fairly delicate situation. Something that requires a, erm, _familiar_ touch. If you wouldn’t mind following me-”

Hubert and Edelgard exchanged a glance, and both of them knew.

The brown-haired, green-eyed girl had her back to them when they entered the bedroom, the same one that Edelgard had occupied all those years ago. Hubert couldn’t see her face, but she had her arms folded, and he already knew she’d be wearing one of her and her mother's characteristic pouts. 

“The soldiers found just outside the front gate. We aren’t sure why she was outside. Unfortunately, she won’t tell us-”

“Thank you,” interrupted Edelgard. “I’m sure we can take this from here.”

The servant nodded and hurried out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Edelgard sighed. “We’ve discussed this before, Thea. You’re not to go sneaking out of the palace by yourself. And certainly not at night.” The tone in her voice was sharp, but her expression remained calm. This was Edelgard’s usual style: _not angry, just disappointed._

“But it’s not _fair_,” said the princess, her expression darkening further. “I never get to go outside. I don’t like being stuck in the palace all the time.”

“Come now,” said Edelgard. “You know that you can go outside as long as you have an adult with you. We promised to take you to the opera this weekend, didn’t we?”

“But I want to go outside by myself,” Thea insisted, pouting again. “Besides, I know you used to sneak out all the time when you were a child. Uncle Ferdinand told me-”

Edelgard’s cheeks flushed. “That, young lady, is a preposterous allegation. I can’t believe you’d accuse your father and me of doing something so irresponsible.” 

Hubert stifled a smile, even though he’d made a mental note to have a few stern words with Uncle Ferdinand about what information he divulged to their daughter. “It’s alright, my love” he said. “You should go to bed.”

He gave her a look that told her he had everything under control. Edelgard seemed reluctant, but after shooting a final stern stare in their daughter’s direction, she left the room.

Hubert sat down on the bed beside his daughter, recalling the rush of excitement he’d felt when he’d first snuck outside. “Your mother is correct,” he said, suppressing the feeling and forcing himself to act stern again. “You shouldn’t be leaving the palace by yourself, especially not after dark.” 

Thea flopped backwards onto the bed, her expression glum. “Am I being punished then?”

Hubert smiled. “Your mother may have a few punishments up her sleeve. Perhaps a temporary ban on sweets-” He paused, noting the horrified expression on the girl’s face. “But nothing serious. Just make sure you don’t get caught again.”

“Mother’s angry, isn’t she?”

“She’s not angry with you,” Hubert said, scooting closer to her on the bed. “She just worries about you. Your mother has worked - _still_ works - incredibly hard to keep you safe. She couldn’t stand the thought of anything happening to you. And the streets of the city aren’t always safe, especially not for children by themselves.”

He looked out across the bedroom, at the toys scattered across the carpet, the piles of books on the nightstand, the flickering glow of the candle on the dressing table. It was the same dressing table that Edelgard had sat at those years ago, combing her long brown hair, the same shade as Thea’s, before it had turned blinding white. He thought of all the time that had elapsed since then; all the sacrifices that Edelgard had made and battles that they’d fought together. All so no other child would ever have to suffer the way she had.

Hubert hoped that Thea would understand one day.

“I’m not a child. I’m seven.” Thea stuck her tongue out impudently. “Anyway, is it true that you used to sneak out all the time? How did you do it?”

“I couldn’t possibly tell you,” Hubert said, with a wry smile. “But I’ll let you in on a secret. The front gate is by far the _worst_ way of sneaking out of the palace. Far too many soldiers around. There are other more...well hidden ways, if you understand what I’m saying.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she sat up again. “You mean like a secret passageway?”

“Exactly like a secret passageway,” replied Hubert. “Of course, I couldn’t possibly tell you where they’re located. That’s something you will have to find out for yourself.”

Thea tugged on his sleeve eagerly. “Come on, father. At least give me a clue.”

All Hubert could do was smile in return.

“Maybe when you’re older.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome <3
> 
> In my multichapter fic, Hubert mentions how he and Edelgard once snuck out of the palace as kids to buy sweets. I couldn't resist writing it that scene (and a few others as well). This story takes place in a slightly different universe, not least because it's Edelbert rather than Edeleth. I love both pairings equally!


End file.
